


Turning Crimson (This Will Make You Love Again)

by jo2ukes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, M/M, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reluctant Lovers, Slow Burn, tags to be added with updates, well... mostly canon compliant - we're giving it a lil butt lift
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jo2ukes/pseuds/jo2ukes
Summary: It meant nothing, he reassured himself. Reassured Lady Edelgard. Whatever he and Dedue had, was a dalliance. A boyish crush, nothing more. Von Vestras had no use for emotions.At the Academy- no, his entire life- anyone other than Lady Edelgard hardly merited a glance. He could study the habits of others. Their interests, weaknesses, points to exploit. Those were the only relationships he knew how to have. To use others for his gain, to keep an eye on those who stood as a threat to his Lady. In the world of a von Vestra, there was no such thing as a friend or a confidante.And though Hubert would be loathe to admit it, Dedue had been something of an exception. An enigma.
Relationships: Dedue Molinaro/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an anon I received on my tumblr (since I incessantly babble about deduebert) - theoretically a canon compliant post-CF fic. I was already like 3k deep into a different deduebert fic, but I'm so in love with this idea I had to jump on this too :')

_ None of his former classmates beg for mercy. None of them are shown mercy, cut down one by one, their sacrifices making way for a new future. _

_ And yet, here, face to face with this demonic beast, mercy is the one thought consuming his mind. He wants to scream for a cease fire, for a moment to think, to gather up the thoughts that are running from him. Instead, his mind replays the sight of Dedue. Dedue using a crest stone to transform into this  _ thing _ , this beast. How had he learned of the crest stones’ powers? For a moment, his heart is gripped with the fear that Thales’ influence had infiltrated the Kingdom somehow. But he isn’t sure. He can’t be.  _

_ Even if Thales  _ has  _ managed to get his grip on the minds of Kingdom soldiers, what does it matter? Securing victory for Lady Edelgard is all that matters. _

_ Despite himself, his lips move of their own accord. _

_ “Dimitri is just ahead,” Hubert calls to his Lady. “Focusing all of our energy here is a waste of time. The sooner we advance and claim the King’s head, the sooner we claim our victory. I’ll hold off the demonic beast, draw its attacks. You can move around from the left. Take the main force with you - we still cannot be sure the Church won’t make a move. _

_ “Very well,” Edelgard nods. She looks tired. This war takes just as much out of her as it does everyone else. “Be safe, Hubert,” she cautions, before signaling the rest of the army to move. _

_ Once she leaves his sight, Dedue consumes his thoughts once more. _

_ At the Academy- no, his entire life- anyone other than Lady Edelgard hardly merited a glance. He could study the habits of others. Their interests, weaknesses, points to exploit. Those were the only relationships he knew how to have. To use others for his gain, to keep an eye on those who stood as a threat to his Lady. In the world of a von Vestra, there was no such thing as a friend or a confidante.  _

_ And though Hubert would be loathe to admit it, Dedue had been something of an exception. An enigma. He’d hardly taken notice of the man until the Professor requested he join their class, if only for a month, to assist with missions. Hubert took it upon himself to study him then, of course. Could he be used, could he be swayed? If not, what could be his downfall? How did he think, how did he move? These were the ways he was taught to think, to read others. There was no such thing as friendship, companionship. He had no need of such things, or so his father had told him.  _

_ Even so, from their first meeting onward, Dedue began to possess Hubert’s every thought. _

_ He’d saved his life.  _

_ A stray arrow. A curious thing. Hubert was not the intended target, to be sure, but Dedue’s ever watchful eye caught its movement, using his own battle-torn body as a shield, no thought given to his own weakened state, no questions asked. Dedue moved to lay down his life for a classmate he hardly knew. Hubert knew then, compassion was his weakness. _

_ And yet, for the first time, it was one he had no desire to exploit. _

_ That month, they began spending time together in the greenhouse at the monastery. It became a ritual of sorts, meeting in the greenhouse to discuss their plants. When one was away on a mission, the other would tenderly water and wed the soil. Dedue’s plants were memories, cures. Hubert’s were weapons, poisons. Both were shown love. _

_ Their greenhouse meetings evolved into late night study sessions. Evolved into casual conversations in between lectures. Evolved into meals shared at the dining hall. Evolved into casual brushes of skin, tender touches, whispered secrets. _

_ Their first kiss was in the Goddess Tower the night of the ball. He’d never felt breathless before in his life, but that night, in Dedue’s arms, in the unlikeliest of places, the breath left his lungs and went straight to his head.  _

_ It meant nothing, he reassured himself. Reassured Lady Edelgard. Whatever he and Dedue had, was a dalliance. A boyish crush, nothing more. Von Vestras had no use for emotions. _

_ Yet, before he followed his flame emperor, before he carried out his own missives, he spoke to Dedue- the last words to leave his lips were “be careful.”  _

_ And here he stands, unable to raise his hands and slaughter the beast, instead dodging attack after attack. When he retaliates, he’s careful not to do any major damage. _

_ Selfishly, he is grateful when Dimitri falls and he no longer has to advance. _

_ He lets the demonic beast wander aimlessly, withdrawing his troops, swearing he’ll return. _

+++

He meets Dedue again two years later.

“You’re sure you want me to proceed?” Quin confirms for what feels like the millionth time. They push their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

Hubert nods, signaling for his troops to stand at the ready.

If he fails, it won’t be the first time. He is used to the taste of defeat by now. It mattered once, when all of Fódlan stood against Edelgard, that he not fail. Now, granted the freedom to pursue his own curiosity, failure has become a familiar taste. A frustrating reality over the past two years. No one from the Church remains to guide him and he must rely on whatever intel Those Who Slither in the Dark have gathered. Despite their ability to harness the power of crest stones, the stones themselves are, as it turns out, quite fickle. Using them to turn into demonic beasts is quite easy. Undoing that transformation is a different story. 

Still, he must persevere. Over the years the rumors have been pervasive. Demonic beasts are no strangers to the world in the years since the Empire claimed victory, uniting Fódlan and effectively wiping away the stain of the Church. He tells her Majesty, and himself, his goal is to see the end of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Freeing the demonic beasts rids them of a majority of their power. He could have focused his efforts on any of the demonic beasts. It is his duty to know their locations, their movements. None of them are particularly interesting, with one exception. Stories of the Beast of the Tailtean Plains are different from the others. An elusive creature at best, the destruction it leaves in its wake is still oddly intentional. Calculated. But it leaves destruction all the same. 

Hubert has asked for time. Resources. Patience. He reasons, if he can simply figure out how crest stones work, if it is possible to undo their effects, it will make the war against Those Who Slither in the Dark that much easier. Lady Edelgard has been benevolent enough to oblige. She allows Hubert to move as he pleases, keeping himself to the shadows, working with whatever unpleasant company he needs.

Coaxing the beast out to face him has proven to be a challenge. When it reaches their line of sight, Hanneman gives the signal, and Quin commands the repurposed Titanus to move forward. The Beast of the Tailtean Plains watches its advance with curiosity, making no moves as the Titanus readies its beam, as though resigned to its fate. Light pierces its thick armor and still, no reaction.

Hubert is almost determined to write it off as another failure, waving his men to stand down, until cracks spread across its skin, its eyes widening, its majestic frame fading, shrinking. Whittled down to nothing more than a man. A sight Hubert thought he’d never lay eyes on again. 

With shaking limbs, Dedue stands.  _ His _ Dedue. 

Despite the lances at his throat, the swords pointed at his vital organs, a familiar pride flashes in his eyes.

“Cut me down,” he roars, addressing no one in particular, the muscles in his body tensing. His eyes dart from face to face, each of the soldiers clearly unfamiliar to him. “I will die before I let you strike down the King.” Even with no weapons or armor, no clothing to speak of, his presence is commanding. Terrifying. 

“Dedue,” Hanneman interjects evenly, his hands raised, “No one is here to hurt you. The war is at an end.”

Dedue’s expression contorts, settling somewhere between confusion and rage, glancing down at his hands.

“I was-”

“-A demonic beast, yes,” Hanneman finishes for him, “but we’ve brought you back. We’ve no quarrel with you.”

“Dimitri?” Dedue asks.

Hanneman hesitates, glancing at Hubert. 

“He’s dead,” Quin interjects, tactlessly as ever. Dedue stiffens.

“Then I have quarrel with you. I still draw breath,” he says darkly. “If the Kingdom’s resistance is to rest fully on my shoulders, then so be it.”

His eyes wander from Quin to dart between the unfamiliar faces in front of him, challenging any of them to move. When his gaze finally find Hubert’s, a thousand emotions flash in the blink of an eye. Hubert recognizes the hurt and pretends the stabbing pain in his chest doesn’t exist. A moment of silence passes.

“If you do not strike, I will,” Dedue whispers. Hubert recognizes the briefest hesitation in his movements, but it hardly lasts before Dedue lunges forward, ready to tear him limb from limb with his own hands.

Hubert doesn’t even have to make the signal. His men move fluidly, quickly overpowering the man who was once more powerful than an entire battalion. Quin had warned he would likely be in a weakened state, should the transformation actually take effect. Dedue is out cold in a matter of moments.

“He is to be taken  _ alive _ ,” Hubert reminds them. “Years of study will be wasted otherwise.”

“Minister,” Quin hops from their perch on the Titanus, keeping their voice low as they near, “If the stories we’ve heard are true, surely there’s no need to keep him alive. We know our method works. He’s too dangerous-”

“-He is to be kept  _ alive,”  _ Hubert repeats, his voice dripping with venom.

“How do you propose to deal with Periander, should she learn you’ve decided to keep a pet? Thinking you’ve killed a demonic beast to maintain Edelgard’s trust is one thing, but should she find out he’s alive….”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” he smirks. Quin shrugs, but their feet shift nervously. “News will take time to travel from Faerghus to Shambhala. I’ll deal with her if and when I must. ”

“On to Faerghus then,” Quin nods, giving an awkward bow before skipping back to the Titanus.

As they march back toward the capital of the former Kingdom, Hanneman falls into step beside Hubert, chatting away about the implications of their discovery. Hubert hardly pays attention, instead keeping his eyes on Dedue. He is almost sure they’re enemies - were their roles reversed, had he regained consciousness to find his Empress had been killed - he would have no choice but to fight back with whatever venom was left in his throat.

Yet, Hubert holds on to some sort of hope. For what it’s worth, they’ve been on opposite sides of the battlefield their entire lives and yet  _ something  _ has managed to blossom between them. Perhaps they could nurture it back to health. It’s not a hope he will ever allow himself to voice aloud - it isn’t even a secret he’s entrusted to Lady Edelgard. 

In the world of a von Vestra, there is no room for emotional attachments, but he feels he’s carved a space in his heart all the same. He has no plans up his sleeve, no grand tactics, no ultimate plan. He’d only hoped to be reunited with Dedue, and here they are.

And so, it is on to Faerghus. He will let the pieces fall as they may.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to my good, darling friend kristen for beta-ing (mostly for flow and coherency bc idk how to use commas and likely have not fixed all the other errors)! idk if you will see this, but ily!

Dedue is not sure why they've kept him alive. If the Kingdom has truly fallen and the Empire has assumed control of Fodlan, he is no ally. He has no useful information to share. Surely Hubert is shrewd enough to have surmised this. And yet, Dedue has lost track of the days he’s spent locked away in Fhirdiad. It’s been weeks, maybe months. It feels like an eternity. The anger and despair boiling in the pit of his stomach never leaves.

He has a new understanding of the darkness that consumed Dimitri upon discovering Edelgard’s true nature. To have someone you care about betray you in such a way, while feeling powerless to do anything about it.

In the past, were it possible, he would have gladly shouldered Dimitri’s burdens- carried the anguish and guilt brought on by the dead. Now, it seems these burdens were passed down to him. None are left to shoulder the weight but him. And bear it he shall. He hasn’t the tactical mind of Dimitri, but he knows patience is key. He quickly reasons escaping isn’t much of an option. Though he is intimately familiar with Fhirdiad’s dungeons and their weak points, he has nowhere to go. He has no living allies, no waiting army. The thought of ending his life with his own hand has crossed his mind. There is nothing for him here, nothing the Empire can offer him that would make living worthwhile. Thoughts of his King are the only reason he still lives, complies with orders from the guards, never puts up a fight. 

Dimitri’s desire to avenge the dead shall be sated, and Dedue is determined to be the sword that carries out the deed. Given time, he will hang Edelgard’s head from the gates of Enbarr in Dimitri’s stead.

In his waking hours, with little to occupy his time other than thoughts of revenge, he notes he carries the weight differently, than Dimitri. Dedue doesn’t see ghosts or hear voices in his head. Rather, in the rare instances sleep manages to find him, he dreams. He dreams of Dimitri, he dreams of his family, he dreams of his classmates- many of whom he watched fall at the battle of Tailtean Plains, cut down for their loyalty to the King, just as he should have been.

\--

_ “My friend,” Dimitri greets, pressing his forehead against Dedue’s. Dedue would never tire of hearing it- the title of ‘friend’ pouring so easily from Dimitri’s lips.  _

_ “Your Majesty,” Dedue attempts to sit further upright in his bed, ignoring the pain of his wounds and offering a bow of his head. He is unsure of what to do with all the attention. His face feels warm as Dimitri gazes at him. If his actions could erase the lines of worry and sleepless nights from his King’s face, he would gladly storm the city of Enbarr by himself. It feels foolish to admit, but even in his weakened state, he feels he’d have the power to do it. _

_ “Goddess, I’d truly feared the worst.” Dimitri pulls back, holding Dedue’s hand firmly within his own. It was a habit of Dimitri’s, holding his hand. The first time he’d offered such a gesture was years ago as he led Dedue out of his burning village, even as tears poured down his own face, his concern for Dedue clear by the way he wrapped his fingers firmly around his hand. In the times since then, he’d taken to holding Dedue’s hand when he needed comfort or needed to express some emotion he struggled to find words for. _

_ “Mercedes said your wounds were quite severe.” _

_ “You do not need to concern yourself with me, your Majesty. What matters is that you are safe.” _

_ Dimitri chuckles darkly at that, gently squeezing his hand. “While I know a small enemy ambush isn’t anything too much for you to handle, I wish you wouldn’t take your own mortality so lightly, Dedue. I only succeed because I have you at my side. I need you here with me. I know I can’t command you not to die,” he laughs again, “but at least promise me that you won’t carelessly throw your life away for my sake.” Dedue opens his mouth to retort, to say that offering up his life in exchange for Dimitri’s was the right thing to do. It was his duty and his honor. He couldn’t imagine living on in a world without Dimitri by his side. Instead, he falls silent as Dimitri repeats himself. Firmly. Earnestly. _

_ “Please.” _

_ How could he refuse? _

\--

Eventually his days are broken up by visitors. Mostly, it’s Hanneman and Manuela. Though, calling them visitors is a bit generous, he thinks. Hanneman prods him with questions, asking if he can remember anything from the time he was a demonic beast. Dedue derives some satisfaction from the fact that Hanneman’s expression melts into disappointment when his answer is no. 

Manuela talks  _ at  _ him while she examines his health, prattling on about her life, as though things were entirely normal. Apparently not much has changed for her since their time at the Academy. Her scatterbrained stories help him piece together a timeframe of sorts. It’s 1188. Two years have passed since the battle at Tailtean Plains. 

He’s physically sound, she reports.

Hanneman and Manuela are always trailed by some mysterious figure Dedue doesn’t recognize. Their face looks familiar, bearing a passing resemblance to Cornelia. The same tired eyes, the same light pink hair. He never addresses them, never asks after them, never engages more with any of his “visitors” than is required. After some time, he learns their name is Quin. They’re an academic. A scholar of sorts. Hubert and Hanneman had enlisted their help as they furthered their crest stone research.

“Hubert and I didn’t think it was possible for you to come back after a transformation like that,” Hanneman prattles on, as though Dedue cares to understand the circumstances that brought him back. “We’ve never observed it happening. Most minds and bodies can’t withstand the power of the crests, but with Quin’s help, we’ve seemed to isolate an exception.”

_ Hubert. _

His memories of his last battle have come back to him slowly, but there is one memory that never seems to have left his mind. Of course, he’d always known it was inevitable he and Hubert would meet on the battlefield and that, eventually, they’d meet on the battlefield for the last time. Seeing him that day, cloak drenched and hair matted by rain, he’d always thought  _ that  _ would be their last meeting. He kept his eyes trained on Hubert, even as he began his transformation. It felt wrong- he should have kept his eyes on Dimitri, he was sacrificing himself and his humanity for  _ Dimitri _ , but his thoughts flew to Hubert. Wondered what he was thinking, if things really had to turn out this way.

But it doesn’t matter now. Whatever he and Hubert were or had is in the past. And perhaps Hubert knows this. He doesn’t show his face for quite some time.

When he finally does, Dedue isn’t sure how to react. He could easily respond to the rage boiling up in his throat- Hubert is standing close enough to the bars that he could reach through and grab him by the neck. Instead, they silently regard each other for a few beats. Dedue remains seated on the edge of the straw mattress in his cell.

Hubert’s thin eyebrows are drawn into his trademark scowl. His hair is only slightly longer than the last time they met- though much shorter than it had been in the Academy- bangs still covering half his face. The purplish bruises under his eyes are dark as ever. Dedue used to recommend tea blends to help with his insomnia, back in their Academy days. Hubert never took his advice.

His expression is impossible to read. Like Dedue, he’s trained himself well, never betraying emotions when it could reflect poorly on the one he serves or hinder their goals. Yet Dedue finds himself looking for an answer all the same.

“Walk with me,” Hubert says at last, taking another step closer to the bars. He procures a ring of keys from one of his pockets and begins to unlock the cell.

“How do you know I won’t kill you the moment you open that door?”

“You would have tried already,” Hubert says, pressing his lips into a thin smile. “But if it is the door holding you back,” he swings the door open and takes a step forward, “Consider this your chance. Though I’m sure you’re aware any attempt on my life would do you little good. Besides, I think you’re curious. Curious about why you’re here, why you’ve been brought back.”

“So I  _ am  _ more than just a science experiment to you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Hubert scoffs. “Come.”

A guard appears from behind Hubert’s shoulder, lance poised, as if to demonstrate Dedue hasn’t much of a choice but to comply. And Hubert is right. He  _ could  _ kill him, but it will do no good. Not now, at least. So, he stands, following behind Hubert as he’s led out of the dungeon. 

The palace in Fhirdiad has been his home for the better part of his life, but it feels foreign now. Empty. Cold. None of the faces he passes in the hall are familiar, though the glances he gets, he recalls all too well. Some gawk at him, some recoil in fear, some sneer. He ignores it all, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Hubert’s head, pretending he doesn’t notice the deep blue tapestries and paintings commissioned by House Blaiddyd have all been replaced with the Adrestian art and scarlet banners. 

This is not his home anymore.

He winces as the sun hits his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he’s been outside and, while he’s not entirely pleased with present circumstances, he feels an odd sort of relief when the cool Faerghan breeze hits his skin.

He’s following Hubert to the palace gardens- he recognizes the path- but it is more of the same. The flowers growing are different from the ones he remembers. He almost hates to think his particular corner of the gardens- the place where he grew plants from Duscur- has likely undergone the same changes.

He doesn’t get a chance to look however, as Hubert stops and seats himself on a bench looking out toward one of the garden’s many enchanted fountains. He waves the guard away, before motioning for Dedue to sit beside him. 

He remains standing. He doesn’t want to be here. He knows it’s pointless, but he wants to run as far as his legs will carry him, as long as his breath will last. Some part of him feels a relief would come from running. As though running far enough or fast enough could bend the rules of time and bring him back to a world he understands. A world that holds friends and cherished memories- not this cold, foreign and unforgiving one.

“You seem to be adjusting well,” Hubert says. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect, pulling you out of a demonic beast like that. We weren’t sure if you’d be… yourself. Manuela says she has no concerns for your health, which I suppose means it was all worth it.”

Dedue feels his skin prickle with annoyance. 

In the Academy, he and Hubert often had conversations in the greenhouse. Hubert (nor himself, for that matter) was never really one for friendly conversation and yet, somehow, despite their aloof natures, they managed to find ease with each other. That was before Dedue knew anything, of course. When he was still naive as to Hubert’s involvement with his enemies. The fact that he thinks Dedue can ignore all that, or at least presumes he’s willing to engage in such a casual conversation after everything that’s happened makes him itch. His stomach burns. 

His relationship with Hubert, whatever it was, didn’t mean anything. They’d both been adamant about that. Whatever they were before the war was a memory, nothing more. The  _ war  _ was what truly defined their relationship, showed them the kind of men they were. They were enemies, nothing more. 

“What is the purpose of this?” Dedue asks. “I’m not stupid enough to believe you brought me out here for idle chatter, and I have no information you could possibly want.”

“Then it is rather fortunate I do not want information from you,” Hubert crosses his legs, looking up at him. His thin smile comes so easily. His eyes narrow. “Cutting to the chase, I have information to  _ give _ you.”

Dedue almost laughs.

“Speaking candidly, unless you are about to tell me how best to kill your precious Empress, you are wasting your breath.”

Hubert sighs.

“A dangerous desire to admit to the Minister of the Imperial Household. I could have you killed.”

“Then do so. There is nothing you can do or say that will change my mind. You cannot expect that I would want to bend my knee to the woman who slaughtered my King and my people.”

Hubert cocks his head, studying Dedue for a moment. Dedue concentrates all his efforts on keeping his emotions in check. He has forgotten that Hubert has a way of getting under people’s skin. It’s a talent that comes naturally and, likely, has served him well. He can’t give him the satisfaction.

“If that is how you truly feel, perhaps you’ll hear me out.”

“Do I have a choice?” Dedue snorts.

“But of course! If you have no interest in the information I’m offering, you are welcome to be escorted back into the palace. And we’ll try again tomorrow. Or the day after. It makes no difference to me. I would simply venture to guess you’re still interested in avenging your people. And Dimitri’s father.” 

“And I told you I already know how best to do that. This ends with Edelgard’s head. If I have to kill you too, so be it.”

“You still think you have all the pieces, don’t you?” Hubert laughs. “Even with all the time that has passed, even with the same cloud of ignorance hanging over your head, you move with the confidence of a man who doesn’t know he knows nothing.”

“Ignorant as I may be, I have no reason to believe poison spilling from the mouth of Edelgard’s lapdog. You’ll say anything to protect her.”

“You bore me,” Hubert sighs. “Of course I’ll say anything to protect her. It just so happens, in this case, that my desire to protect her coincides with your lust for vengeance. The war is over and Lady Edelgard has largely achieved her goals. What good would it do to lie to you? If you are so determined to kill her Majesty, you are free to try. Or, I could save us both the time and kill you here and now. I am merely offering you a different path. A chance to act upon the full truth. I have the answers. I always have. Insult me all you like, but I observe, I  _ think  _ before blindly carrying out orders, and act on what I think is best. That’s the difference between you and I. Perhaps if you’d had the answers, if  _ Dimitri  _ bothered to find the right answers, things could have ended differently.”

Dedue feels a scream build up in his throat. He lunges forward, wrapping a hand tightly around Hubert’s neck. He only briefly relishes in the satisfaction he feels as he watches a brief flicker of surprise and fear flash across Hubert’s face.

“How  _ dare  _ you lay the war and the death of my friends at my feet? At  _ his  _ feet?” 

Hubert opens his mouth to speak, but Dedue only tightens his grip.

“I wasn’t the one who pierced their flesh and pulled screams from their throats. I watched them die by your hand. If you had answers and you selfishly kept them to yourself, you and your Empress are the only ones to blame. I  _ will  _ make sure you pay the price.”

“How? By demanding pity for your ignorance and spending your second chance snivelling in the corner of a dungeon, waiting for an impossible opportunity to fall into your lap?  _ That’s  _ the way you elect to proceed?” Hubert looks at him calmly, having regained control of his expression, but Dedue can feel his quickened pulse beneath his fingers. He can hear the strained breaths he pulls into is lungs. “Apparently you’ve changed.”

“You never knew me,” Dedue spits. His face is inches from Hubert’s. “You think because we  _ kissed _ seven years ago you understand me? You took  _ everything  _ from me. If not directly, you were more than happy to lie in bed with those that did. What other choice do I have?”

“You can kill those who are actually responsible for the Tragedy of Duscur. I know who they are. I know how they work. This is the chance I’m offering you. Is that not what your king would have wanted?”

Loathe as he is to admit it, Hubert has a point. He relaxes his grip and takes a small step back, watching as Hubert coughs breath back into his lungs. 

“Speak,” Dedue says, gruffly. He sits beside Hubert. “Tell me everything you know.”

“It is true our army had what we can agree are… less than savory allies. Thales. Kronya. Cornelia, for a time. Each had their role to play in the fall of Duscur.”

“They all died,” Dedue says. “Are you proposing we dig them up and kill them again to spare your empress?”

“They may have died, but their organization, their followers, whatever you wish to call them-  _ they  _ are very much alive. Slithering in the dark.”

“Creatures cut from your cloth,” Dedue barbs. Hubert has no witty retort. Instead he suddenly becomes very interested in a patch of dirt to his left. His eyes remain downcast when he speaks next.

“They thought they were pulling the strings with the Empress’ war. They thought they could make her an ally and further their goals. We let them believe it, while it was convenient, but Lady Edelgard could not abide their actions. When she learned they were responsible for Duscur, she was furious. That tragedy left her scarred too, as you know.”

“And yet she allied with them.”

“She  _ elected  _ to fight the war one front at a time,” Hubert corrects him. “We had no hope of taking on the Church of Seiros and Thales’ army at the same time. So, we accepted the harsh reality that the enemy of our enemy was a friend. Now that the Church of Seiros has been dealt with, Lady Edelgard’s gaze has turned to what remains of Thales’ filth. Naturally, I offered my assistance. Though, even I must admit, this is a task too great to accomplish on my own.”

“A convenient story,” Dedue hums. “You’ve still given me no proof that Edelgard and the Empire weren’t responsible for Duscur. Even if they weren’t, they  _ are  _ responsible for the death of my King.”

“We were prevented from conveying the truth to Dimitri,” Hubert says quickly with a wave of his hand. “Thales saw to that. As I said before, I’d like to believe Dimitri would have acted differently, perhaps walked away from his blind rage and allied with a nobler cause had he known the full truth.” 

Dedue stands.

What could Hubert know of noble causes? His allegiance was only to Edelgard. Dedue knows firsthand any semblance of emotion he conveys is a facade. He cannot feel things for others, he has no need to. Pretending to feel, pretending to be trustworthy, saying the right things - these all get him what he needs to serve his empress, and then whatever mirage he’s conjured will disappear. He’s never real with anyone.

“I am unsure what you’ve hoped to gain by telling me the truth, but if your goal was to test my patience, you’ve succeeded.” He turns on his heel to leave, but Hubert calls after him, giving him pause.

“On the contrary. I had… rather hoped to ask for your assistance, which is why I went to such great lengths to bring you back.”

Dedue turns to face him. There’s an earnest look on Hubert’s face. One he’s not sure he’s ever seen. He is on his feet as well, taking a hesitant step forward.

Dedue’s head tells him to be cautious, reminds him of the snake in front of him. Hubert lies and he lies  _ well _ . He’s seen it and experienced it. But his heart? His heart is, inexplicably, screaming and begging that he believe Hubert. That he take a chance. He has so little left to lose and, somehow, turning down Hubert feels like he’d be losing all he has left.

“You have a funny way of going about asking for help,” he says at length.

“It isn’t something I’m used to,” Hubert says slowly. Relief spreads across his features- there’s even a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “If tangible proof is what you desire, if that’s what it takes to convince you to help, it can be procured. All I ask is for your patience.”

He still feels conflicted. Uncertain. Wary of the possibility that he could be walking into a trap. But part of him truly wants to believe that Edelgard couldn’t be so cruel. That  _ Hubert  _ couldn’t be so cruel. Perhaps that desire is born from his own need to feel comfortable, to assuage his own guilt for somehow surviving (through no fault of his own), to feel like he belongs in this world. If Edelgard is only  _ indirectly  _ responsible for the deaths of those he loves, he can justify stopping at defeating Thales’ allies. He can buy into the foolish fantasy that Dimitri’s soul, and the souls of his family and classmates, can rest.

And so, he resolves to follow Hubert down whichever dark path he decides is best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts on clown nose and clown shoes and posts deduebert in the middle of ferdibert week*

**Author's Note:**

> ship deduebert they deserve it


End file.
